Chapter 134: Walking a Tightrope (8)
Chapter 134: Walking a Tightrope (8)
The wager between the Duke and Cruel—which had been briefly postponed because Deon Hart had vacated his position to go to the Demon Realm under the pretext of a mission—began the moment he returned to the Empire.
It was a bet where the loser would grant the winner's wish, and the winner would be the one who killed Deon Hart first.
'He survived another day.'
After receiving the report detailing how many ambushes there had been, how many poisoning attempts, and how they were resolved, Cruel calculated how many times in a single day Deon had stood at the crossroads of life and death before closing his eyes.
'That's a relief.'
But the Duke wouldn't give up over just these few failures.
Which was precisely why he had placed the request indefinitely.
Knowing how persistent the Duke was, even though money had to be hemorrhaging from his pockets, Cruel did not withdraw the request to protect Deon Hart.
***
The Duke had commissioned a murder, and Cruel had commissioned protection. Both targeting the very same individual.
Upon receiving this report, instead of speaking immediately, the Emperor sat down, hooded his eyes halfway, and raised a hand to knead the corners of his eyes.
His golden irises roamed here and there, seemingly trying to focus on empty air, before soon retreating beneath his eyelids. With practiced ease, the Emperor drew a dagger.
Thwock!
"......Hoo."
Nemeseus, who had been standing still, let his gaze fall upon the Emperor's impaled left hand.
Gripping the dagger's hilt, the Emperor exhaled slowly, opened his eyes, and pulled it out. As blood gushed from the wound with a gruesome noise, Nemeseus approached with practiced familiarity and began treatment.
With his left hand left in Nemeseus's care, the Emperor stowed the dagger with his right hand, picked up the documents he had briefly set aside, and a sneer rose to his lips.
"......I see. One tries to kill him, and the other tries to protect him."
And outwardly, the two were on the same side.
To make things worse, Deon Hart sincerely hated the person trying to protect him with all his heart—what was he supposed to call this?
To call it amusing would be to trivialize the burdensome story entwined within, yet to take it seriously was a privilege the Emperor was not afforded.
He forcibly twisted open his mouth, which did not open easily.
"Really...."
"......."
"What a pitiful fate."
Though it wasn't something a man who had a hand in that very pitiful fate should say.
Since when had the Emperor ever spoken while weighing his own qualifications? He shamelessly left his sentiments on this unlaughed comedy and turned to the next document.
"The treatment is not yet finished. Please keep your hand still."
"......It's become a habit."
He withdrew his hand, which had unconsciously been moving toward the wound on his left hand.
Ignoring Nemeseus's following gaze, he took in the contents of the next document. This one, too, did not contain very pleasant content.
A sigh-laced murmur escaped him.
"Again, Inga."
"......."
"It seems he never tires of it. Instead of wasting time spreading such nonsense rumors, he should be devising ways to deal with the demon-race."
It was a rumor that the combat style of the Demon King's 0th Legion Commander was similar to that of the Empire's hero Deon Hart.
Both concealed their faces, used daggers, and adhered to a brutal fighting style—enough to warrant suspicion. It was the role of the Emperor and the Demon King to nip these suspicions in the bud.
"As always, handle it quietly."
"......."
The hand wrapping the bandages stopped.
Far from answering, sensing something odd in the fact that no matter how long he waited, the treatment showed no sign of concluding, the Emperor looked up at him. Nemeseus, who willingly did not avert his eyes, stared quietly at the golden eyes for a moment before slowly speaking.
"......May I dare to ask if the two truly have no connection?"
"......."
For the first time, this man, who had until now carried out orders without question, posed a question regarding this rumor.
He must have wrestled with it considerably himself. Unable to easily utter a lie, the Emperor remained silent for the moment.
A stillness descended along with a strange tension. In the silence born from the unspoken battle of nerves as they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the Emperor broke it by fixing his gaze back on the documents.
"I... did not permit questions."
The Emperor did not answer with a lie.
"......My apologies."
The general caught the meaning behind those words.
As the Emperor was about to add something, he spotted a communicator signaling and raised one eyebrow.
This communicator was clearly one linked to Deon Hart.
'What is it? He hasn't even been given any particular mission because of the rumors.'
Had some problem arisen?
He reached out, grasped the communicator, and gave a low command.
"Withdraw."
"......Yes, Your Majesty."
***
Just one bastard. I just need to properly fuck up one bastard.
If I brutally slaughter one in plain sight as a warning, those damned oversized demonic beasts will get scared and retreat.
Deon watched the creatures rushing at him with their eyes rolled back, twirling his dagger around before his lips curled into a smirk.
'I heard the demonic beasts were multiplying exponentially, and it seems it's true.'
I thought that as long as I had this brand, I'd never be attacked by demonic beasts. Just how hungry were they to think of attacking me?
It was hunger strong enough to overcome the Demon King's aura felt from the brand. Add to that the fact I was separated from the herd, alone, small, and looked easy—it must have removed any remaining hesitation.
"That shouldn't happen."
Crimson eyes glistened with madness.
Other things were fine. Even if something more was added to this frail body, it wouldn't change anything. On the premise that I didn't appear weak, I could cough up blood, take a sword to some part of my body, and lose limbs—that was all fine.
But.
"That can't happen."
The one thing I can't allow is appearing weak.
After making a name for myself in the Eight-Year War and making a rather... aggressive entrance in my first meeting with the Demon King, there had been no one anywhere in the human or demon realms who dared look down on him.
So this feeling was one I hadn't experienced in a very long time. The demonic beasts I'd met before without the brand naturally charged at me, so that didn't matter. But now that I had the brand, their behavior meant I looked pathetic enough to ignore the Demon King's aura.
"Come on, you little shits. It's been a while since someone touched my reverse scale."
I'll kill you nice and proper.
The dagger spun around, and his thumb folded and straightened over the hilt a few times as if stroking it. Abandoning any thought of returning with his body intact, Deon Hart spread his arms wide with a broad grin and welcomed his opponents.
***
The demonic beasts fled in terror. If someone from the human realm had seen this, they would have been greatly shocked and declared it impossible. To humans, 'monsters' above a certain level of strength might falter against superior martial prowess but never flee.
I stood firm, watching their retreating figures until they completely vanished from sight before collapsing down.
'It hurts....'
My wrist throbbed. My side, too. Even my legs ached as if every muscle fiber had been severed. I must have coughed up blood as well, given the metallic taste lingering in my mouth. When I looked down, most of my upper garment was stained red.
When I came to my senses and found my body in this state, I was astounded. I had no memory of it, but I thought I knew what I had done. Because only one thing could wreck my body this exquisitely.
'It must have been a seriously dangerous situation, me....'
The one and only means I possess, which can only be used once in an otherwise normal physical state.
Drawing upon and using power that exceeds physical limits.
'Or maybe I panicked and just used the technique recklessly....'
It was only natural that my body, unable to withstand it, would be shattered.
......Whatever the situation, getting back was the priority. I'd been away from my post for too long.
I tried to put strength into my legs to stand up....
"......Huh?"
I stared blankly down at my legs and tried to exert force again. Only sharp pain answered—no strength would enter them.
Unwilling to give up, I attempted several more times to put strength into my legs and stand. My attempts only ended after I barely managed to stand, took a single step, and promptly took a spectacular tumble, catching myself on the floor with my already throbbing wrist.
It hurt like hell, enough to make me roll on the ground silently.
"Haha, I'm screwed."
I'd anticipated it to some extent, but.
Should I just crawl after all? How far was it from here to the barracks again? What if more demonic beasts came in the meantime....
I lay flat on the ground, staring blankly at the sky, when a thought streaked through my head and I shot my upper body up.
'First, I need to report to His Majesty the Demon King...!'
And ask him to do something to retrieve me! Picking up one lightweight human wouldn't need multiple troops—sending just one demon would be enough!
Whether from the pain or something else, I shoved my trembling hand into my pocket and rummaged around.
So... my mind is hazy from the battle aftereffects, but... the 'communication stone' was on my right side, right?
***
- I have completed my mission. I intend to return to the Empire immediately, but I am injured and cannot move easily. I request that you send just one demon to assist me.
"......."
The communication ended.
The Emperor, who had been sitting loosely against his chair and staring silently at the 'communicator,' rose from his seat.
Wordlessly, he donned a cloak and gathered his sword. After briefly checking his condition and stepping outside, Nemeseus, who had been waiting a little distance away, approached. The Emperor stopped him with a practiced gesture and summoned another soldier with a hand signal, ordering,
"Bring first-aid medicine and a set of clean clothes."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Nemeseus, who had been silently watching, suddenly spoke up.
"Where are you going?"
"A stroll."
Even if the first-aid medicine could be excused, no one would pack clean clothes for a mere stroll. Especially when he had even prepared a horse—how could this be considered a mere stroll?
......But surely, there was a reason he had brushed it off as a stroll to me as well.
Normally, he would have retreated as commanded, but this time, perhaps on a whim, Nemeseus, after a brief silence, opened his mouth to make an attempt he knew would be futile.
"I could...."
"It's fine. Do not follow."
Naturally, he was sharply cut off.
Having gathered the prepared items, the Emperor turned away without hesitation. The hem of his cloak billowed in time with his movement.
Watching his retreating figure, the general calculated which direction he was heading before realizing his own disloyalty and closing his eyes.
***
Those demonic beasts from earlier had discovered me while I was lying down. In the end, I hadn't managed to chase them off completely.
Right... these bastards are simple, so a single emotion doesn't last long. It was only natural that persistent hunger outweighed a momentary fear.
'Wait, isn't this basically... a mission failure?'
I should have driven off the demonic beasts and left the area. That way, the ones who hadn't gone far wouldn't know where I was wandering, and they'd play it safe and flee far beyond what they presumed to be my territory.
The mission was a failure, my body was wrecked, and my life was hanging by a thread.......
Haha. I laughed as I watched the demonic beasts charging at me with confident momentum.
'Great. Just great.'
That was sarcasm, of course.
Drawing up willpower born from survival instinct, I ignored the pain screaming through my legs and barely managed to stand.
My vision had turned hazy from the pain, but if I waited a little, it would return to normal. The cold sweat dripping down was unavoidable, but I could mask my expression. Gripping my dagger, I acted as nonchalant as possible and fixed my gaze on what I deduced to be the front.
I felt the unhesitating footsteps falter for just a moment, as if the aftereffects of their earlier terror had not completely faded.
'Just go away like this... Please. Okay?'
Otherwise, someone's going to die. That someone being me.
Despite my hopes, the footsteps quickened again as if nothing had happened. The vibrations of the earth beneath my feet conveyed their rough momentum to me.
My hazy vision slowly cleared, and the world began to register on my retinas. The first thing I saw through the blurry sight was a demonic beast that had arrived right before my nose and—
Shwick!
—a single sword cleaving it apart like a block of tofu.
'......Is it a demon sent by the Demon King?'
I blinked dazedly for a moment, then followed the hand gripping the sword upward to see its owner.
Brilliant golden hair and beast-like golden eyes. An all too familiar aura.
"Uh......."
Why the hell are you here...?!